


Formal Introductions

by saeriibon



Series: Sweet and Sour [1]
Category: Ace Combat
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saeriibon/pseuds/saeriibon
Summary: everyone always gotta fight about who the best awacs is... oh it's bandog... oh it's long caster... consider the fact, my fellow submariners, that they are both great. you know what's also great? love u3u
Relationships: Bandog/Long Caster
Series: Sweet and Sour [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069568
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Formal Introductions

Bandog sighed as he leaned against a wall, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth as it dissipated amongst the empty smoking room. Just outside, chatter, music, and the smell of food much too fancy for his tastes wafted in. 

He was never a fan of parties, let alone one that involved so much politicking. He grimaced as he took a peek outside the room, the one adjacent being used as the main hall, glittering chandeliers and a crowd of people ranging from high ranking military officers to civilian journalists mingled about, unawares to the brooding aura that had been gathering in the corner. He wouldn’t complain about that lack of attention, though.

Apparently, this gala was being hosted by Osea following the end of the Lighthouse War in order to “bridge the gap between the Osean and Erusean governments,” which Bandog could only scoff at. It was really a publicity stunt to help improve Osea’s global reputation, and he bet the Erusean liaisons had the same idea, their country was going into debt after all, so making themselves presentable and appealing to the greater powers would be one of their best solutions. Because of this relatively open attitude, all manner of guests were invited both formally and informally, Bandog being of the latter.

He scanned the crowd again, hearing word earlier that the Erusean princess would be here, not that he particularly cared about that, and that the infamous “Three Strikes” was invited as well. While he didn’t see the princess, he did catch sight of a familiar figure off away from the crowd. 

Trigger was speaking, mostly listening, to his own little group. Bandog practically recognized Count immediately; although his beard was shaved and hair slicked back for the occasion, his air of confidence was palpable, even from here. He was a little surprised he even made it out of the war alive. It seemed that “stick with Trigger and you’ll make it,” wasn’t bullshit after all. Some of the others were pilots he recognized from Strider and Cyclops squadron after their mission in Yinshi Valley, although that Wiseman fellow seemed to be missing. There was also someone he couldn’t recognize, but he seemed to be just as close with the LRSSG as Count and Trigger. Curly red hair bounced as he laughed jovially to something Count said, but his grip on his plate of hors d'oeuvres remained steady. He struck Bandog as the type of person to fit in more at a hometown bar than this stuffy venue. Trigger also seemed pretty uncomfortable wearing his formal OADF uniform as he tugged at his collar occasionally and rolled his shoulders to try and loosen the stiff material.

As he looked at the group, he and Trigger locked eyes for a moment. Bandog hesitantly nodded his head in acknowledgement, but was met with the usual empty blue stare. Count noticed Trigger stopped paying attention to the conversation and followed his focused gaze, eyes narrowing when he saw him. Bandog flinched and retreated further back in the smoking room before the rest of the group could notice him.

He took a deep breath of his cigarette, letting the rest of it burn away in a single go. He sighed again and flicked the butt into an ashtray, fishing out another from his shirt pocket. He slowed when he heard footsteps approaching the room, debating whether or not to up and leave. Deal with getting daggers stared into his back as he ran with his tail between his legs or be cornered in an unfamiliar place with people who were less than happy to see him? Before he could reach a decision, the way out was already being blocked by that red-haired man he caught a glimpse of earlier. Somehow, there was even more food on his plate than before, and unlike Count he had some facial hair left untouched.

“You must be Bandog, right?” his deep voice resonated in Bandog’s chest.

“Who’s asking?” Bandog cocked an eyebrow, resuming to light a fresh cigarette, thankful that this man was neither Trigger nor Count.

The other man tilted his head and gave a smaller laugh, “Where are my manners… They call me Long Caster. I’m the AWACS for the LRSSG. Pleasure to meet you,” he held out a hand that Bandog awkwardly shook.

Bandog looked around, although there wasn’t much to see in the sparsely decorated room, “Is there… anything I can help you with?”

“No, no. I just wanted to come and give a proper thank you for keeping my people alive after their reconnaissance mission, as well as for keeping those two hot shots alive so they could help end the war a little quicker,” Long Caster’s smile betrayed no malice or sarcasm which honestly took Bandog off guard.

“Oh, I… That was all their doing, not mine.” He looked away to the window that took up the wall on the opposite end of the room, although the black of night just turned the glass into a mirror, reflecting the slightly back-lit forms of the two AWACS. It didn’t feel right, receiving praise and thanks after everything. 

Long Caster laughed again, “Even the greatest pilots need eyes in the sky to keep ‘em safe.” Bandog winced a little at that statement. He entered the room and held out his plate, “I’ll trade you a few of these for one of those,” he nodded to the pile of bruschetta he had accumulated and the pack of cigarettes Bandog was holding.

“You can, uh, keep the food. I’ll give you one for free,” he took out another cigarette and lit it, handing it over to Long Caster who took up a spot on the wall beside him.

“Free is always good. It’s partially why I’m here, actually,” he bounced his plate for emphasis.

Bandog chuckled, catching himself quickly, “Stuff like that’s a little too expensive for my tastes, personally.”

“Really? Bruschetta like this is pretty easy to make at home, though.” Long Caster placed the dish on the table with the ashtray so he could dual-wield smoking and eating.

Bandog side-eyed the plate before focusing his attention back on his companion, “You cook?”

“You don’t?” Long Caster looked incredulously at Bandog.

“If you consider boiling pasta and making microwave ready meals cooking, then sure.”

“Man, no wonder you sounded so cranky from all those stories Count and Trigger told me about you.”

Bandog blanched at that, “They… talked about me?”

“Well, it was mentioned in passing. I never bothered digging for more details since it wasn’t my business. That, and the fact that they didn’t seem particularly inclined to recall their time at the 444th.”

“R-right.” Bandog looked down, a hint of shame heating his face, partially responsible for making their time there a living hell.

“It must’ve been tough for you, though. Dealing with a terrible commander and pilots who couldn’t cooperate. Good people have their limits, too. Even me, sometimes.” Long Caster swallowed a slice of the grilled bread whole and gave a couple of hardy pats to Bandog’s shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Doom and gloom doesn’t mix well with this atmosphere.”

"Funny you think I’m a good person," Bandog sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “but thanks for the pep talk, regardless.” He took another long drag on his cigarette and reached for food on the plate, but Long Caster had the same idea and their fingers accidentally bumped into each other.

“Oh, sorry about that! Didn’t know you actually wanted any,” Long Caster raised his hands and gave a good-natured laugh.

Bandog pulled his hand back too, trying to play it cool, “I just wanted to see what the hype was about; you were wolfing them like crazy,” he stepped back a little and did an exaggerated bow, putting on a posh accent, “After you, my good sir.”

Long Caster laughed again, “I take it you’re not a fan of gatherings like these?”

Bandog straightened back up and sighed, “Can you blame me? I mean, look at them out there,” he gestured towards the crowd in the main hall. Whatever small band that was playing had shifted to a more waltzy tune, some of the party-goers deciding to dance along to the music. “I’m only here out of obligation… Just want this damn thing to be over already so I can go home,” he folded his arms and reclined against the wall again.

“I was just going to ask…” Long Caster took the initiative at Bandog’s behest and stacked two pieces of bruschetta on top of each other, downing those as quickly as he did with a single piece. “I mean…” he took a moment to chew and swallow, “I mean why not make the best out of a bad situation? I don’t really like it here either, but at least the food’s tasty and I’m in good company.” He turned to watch some of the people Bandog gestured to before an idea hit him, “Hey, do you dance?”

Bandog was taken aback by the sudden question, “N-no I don’t… I can’t dance.” He felt his face heat up again, the prospect of it alone being enough to embarrass him. 

Long Caster snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray and got off the wall, “You’ve got two working legs, right? I can show you an easy one.” He held out a hand.

Bandog looked from Long Caster’s hand, to his face, and to the main hall and gulped.

“Stage fright?” 

“Something like that…”

“Afraid Trigger and Count will make fun of you?”

Bandog made an annoyed grumble and put out his cigarette.

“Heh, I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bandog huffed indignantly, placing one hand in Long Caster’s.

“Don’t worry. We can stay here for as long as you’d like. Now…” Long Caster moved his other hand around to rest it between the other man’s shoulders, “Put your free hand on my upper arm.”

“This position’s a little… stiff,” Bandog awkwardly followed Long Caster’s directions, practically being held a whole arm’s length apart from him. “How do you even know how to dance like this?”

Long Caster shrugged, “I remember having to do it once back when I was in grade school. Guess it just stuck with me. Once we start moving you’ll get used to it… All you have to do is bring your left foot forwards... and then your right foot will come up and out to the side… yeah, like that! And then once that hits the ground you slide over your left foot to join it. Imagine you’re tracing a square with your feet and those moves made the first two sides.”

“So then… to complete the square we just do the opposite? That’s it?”

“Yup!”

“Huh… That’s a lot more simple than I expected it to be.”

“Like a hot knife through butter… Or homemade bruschetta,” Long Caster looked off into the distance, thinking about other mouthwatering dishes.

Bandog chuckled as they kept dancing, “Do you only think about food?”

“Hey, I eat to live and live to eat.”

“Fair enough.” _‘It's nice to finally meet someone in this military who isn't entirely insufferable...’_ Before he realized it, Bandog started smiling again.

“Nice to see you’re finally loosening up, Mr. Guard Dog. You look just as good smiling as you do scowling,” Long Caster jokingly winked.

Bandog blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what was just said and stumbling a little in the process. 

Long Caster made sure his grip on the other man would keep the both of them steady, “Woah, easy there. Don’t want us falling over now.”

“W-what?”

“You almost made me tri-”

“No, no I mean… I meant…” Bandog felt like a fish out of water as he uselessly opened and closed his mouth, “Just now you said-”

“Oi, Long Caster, what’s the hold… up…”

Long Caster and Bandog both turned towards the third figure standing in the threshold, a very dumbfounded looking Count. Trigger’s head poked in from around the corner, followed by Húxiān and Jaeger.

“It’s getting pretty late, so we were thinking about heading out,” Jaeger was the one who spoke first.

“Also, just wanted to let you know that they’re gonna be running out of potstickers soon, so if you want to grab some…” Húxiān trailed off.

Long Caster smiled, “Ah, thanks for letting me know. I think I’ll stay a little bit longer though, if you guys don’t mind.”

Jaeger raised his hands, “Of course. Have a good night you two, everyone.” He nodded to the others and left, leaving Húxiān to have to grab the still frozen Count by the ear and drag him away. Trigger silently regarded the two AWACS before slowly giving a thumbs up and backing away to where Húxiān and Count went.

It felt like five different missile warnings were going off in Bandog’s head. Just like Count, he was frozen to the spot too, although his face felt quite the opposite. Meanwhile, Long Caster was laughing all the while and tried nudging him with his elbow.

“C’mon, Bandog. Let’s go grab some of those last minute potstickers.”

“H-huh? Oh, right…” Bandog felt a tug at his hand as Long Caster went to leave. “B-but first… hold on…” Bandog reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and lit one, groaning inwardly. ‘ _Of all the things to happen tonight…_ ’

“Not to rush you or anything, but Húxiān _did_ say they were going to run out of potstickers _soon_ …” Long Caster anxiously shifted from one foot to the other as his eyes darted outside the room.

“You said you can cook, right?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course.”

“Then why not cook some for us instead? No rush there, right?”

Long Caster stroked his chin, “You know what, you’re right! Plus, you can get some pointers on how to cook yourself!”

“I wouldn’t push it that far… Unless you want your kitchen burned down,” Bandog joked.

“Oh, please. It’ll be just as easy as dancing!”

“Heh, if you say so…”

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn't mind getting sandwiched between the two of them if ya know what i mean ;)


End file.
